Alphonsus, king of Arragon. James the Fourth. George-a-Greene, the pinner of Wakefield. Specimen of the History of George-a-Greene. Ballad of the Jolly Pinder of Wakefield. Poems

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Page 42 Let there be a Brazen Head set in the middle of the place behind the stage, out of
the which cast flames of fire. Drums rumble within. Enter two Priests. First Pr. My
fellow priest* of Mahound's holy house, What can you judge of these strange ...

Page 240 Like Phoebus' fire, so sparkle * both her eyes ; As air perfum'd with amber is her
breath ; Like swelling waves, her lovely teats do rise ; As earth her heart, cold,
dateth me to death : Aye me, poor man, that on the earth do live, When unkind
earth ...

Page 248 In her face one might descry The curious beauty of the sky : Her eyes carried
darts of fire, Feather'd all with swift desire ; Yet forth these fiery darts did pass
Pearled tears as bright as glass, That wonder 'twas in her eyne Fire and water
should ...

Page 265 I stood amaz ' d and wondering at the sight , While that a dame , That shone like
to the heaven ' s rich sparkling light , Discours ' d the same ; And said , my friend ,
this worm within the fire , Which lies Content , Is Venus ' worm , and represents ...

Page 267 And singing all in notes high, Fie on Venus' flattering eye : Fie on love, it is a toy ;
Cupid witless and a boy ; All his fires, And ... His bow of steel, darts of fire, He
shot amongst them sweet desire, Which straight flies In their eyes, And at the ...

Popular passages

Page 219 - s grief enough for thee. Streaming tears that never stint, Like pearl-drops from a flint, Fell by course from his eyes, That one another's place supplies ; Thus he griev'd in every part, Tears of blood fell from his heart, When he left his pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy. Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee ; When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee.

Page 288 - Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content ; /The quiet mind is richer than a crown ; Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent ; The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown : Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss, Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss. The homely house that harbours quiet rest ; The cottage that affords no pride nor care ; The mean that 'grees with country music best ; The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare ; Obscured life sets down a type of bliss...

Page 302 - With folded arms and lips meeting, Each soul another sweetly greeting; For by the breath the soul fleeteth, And soul with soul in kissing meeteth. If love be so sweet a thing, That such happy bliss doth bring, Happy is love's sugared thrall, But unhappy maidens all, Who esteem your virgin blisses Sweeter than a wife's sweet kisses. No such quiet to the mind, As true love with kisses kind: But if a kiss prove unchaste, Then is true love quite disgraced. Though love be sweet, learn this of me, No sweet...

Page 134 - Why, prince, it is no murder i$ a king To end another's life to save his own : For you are not as common people be, Who die and perish with a few men's tears ; But if you fail, the state doth whole default, The realm is rent in twain in such a loss.

Page 291 - T' outlength my life, whom friends have left forlorn ; How well are they that die ere they be born, And never see thy sleights, which few men shun Till unawares they helpless are undone ! Oft have I sung of Love and of his fire ; But now I find that poet was advised, Which...

Page 277 - ... For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill, Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill. Ah then, ah then, If country loves such sweet desires do gain, What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

Page 318 - I op'd the door, and granted his desire, I rose myself, and made the wag a fire. Looking more narrow by the fire's flame, I spied his quiver hanging by his back : Doubting the boy might my misfortune frame, I would have gone for fear of further...

Page 221 - LIKE to Diana in her summer weed, Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye, Goes fair Samela ; Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed, When washed by Arethusa faint they lie, Is fair Samela...